


The Outlaw's lady

by AwesomeEyeroll



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeEyeroll/pseuds/AwesomeEyeroll
Summary: Based on a prompt. What would happen if Jamie hadn't turned down Claire's offer to share her room during Rent?





	1. Part 1

She raised the candle stick above her head as she flung the door open. Her foot made contact with something solid in the darkness and she hit the ground, winded.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ”. Muttering she clambered to her feet brushing herself off

“What on earth are you doing Sassenach? I think you just broke my rib” The prone shape on the ground stirred to life and was revealed to be the massive form of Mr McTavish. He rubbed his rib gingerly, looking at her in a slightly hurt manner.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? I heard a noise and so I came to investigate. What the hell are you doing lying on the floor out here?”

“Well, Mistress Beauchamp, there are a lot of verra drunk men down there, including a good number of red coats who are not only in their cups but looking for company of the female kind. I figured you’d no want that kind of attention should they decide to come looking, so I thought I’d sleep out here. To protect ya” He went faintly pink in the ears with that last statement. She softened slightly.

“Oh, I see. Well. Thank you, Mr MacTavish. That’s very gallant of you.”

“Mmmph”

He made the scottish noise and she couldn’t help but smile at him. 

She looked around the sparse hall. It was cold and the noise of drunken revelry travelled up the stairs.

“Well, if you are so set on protecting me, why don’t you at least do it from inside my room. It’s certainly a lot warmer than it is out here. His ear turned from pink to red and the rest of his face joined them as the blush crept up his throat.

“I couldna even think to do that, Mistress” he half spluttered. “Your reputation would be in ruins” 

She fought the urge to laugh, primarily due to the look of complete sincerity on his face. She often forgot the differences between life here and the twentieth century world she was used to.

“But I’ve slept mere feet from you for the past 3 weeks. How is this different?”

“Being in your room, alone with you. Sassenach, Claire, it just wouldna be right”

She hadn’t been thinking of anything at all impure, though he was a fine looking man and she certainly found herself seeking to spend time with him, but for the first time she considered it. The thought of what he might feel like pressed against her his hands in her hair, flashed through her mind. She was fond of Jamie, more than fond perhaps, but she had never seriously considered him like that. Well, not much she supposed, but she was only human after all. She shook her head slightly to free herself from the thought.

“Well, please, at least take my blanket. I have my cape and the fire” She turned and headed to the bed to retrieve the bedding. She held it out to him and he reached forward to take it.

Their hands and their eyes met at just the same moment and she felt the shock like she had been electrified. She couldn’t say who moved first only that they were pressed together in the doorway, kissing each other, trying to pull each other closer. They half danced across the threshold of the room and Jamie kicked the door shut with his booted foot. Hands pulled at clothing as the devoured each other’s mouths. She found herself abstractedly thinking of how dexterous he must be to make such short work of her laces whilst never breaking their kiss. She in turn was frantically attempting to unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat. She pushed it off of his shoulders and moved to his stock. There was something terribly intimate about unwinding the material from his throat. She reached a hand up and stroked her fingers down the newly exposed skin and he gasped a bit. She was wearing only her stays, stockings and shift now and she moved her hands downwards to pull his shirt from his kilt. She ran her hand up the skin of his torso before slowly bringing it back down and sliding a single finger into the waist of his kilt. With a moan that was almost a sob Jamie pulled himself away from her holding her at arm’s length. His breath, like hers was ragged and he was shaking slightly. He took a step away from her, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“We canna do this, Claire. I canna take you so. It wouldna be right.” His accent grew thicker with emotion and detected a good deal of regret as well as determination in the tone.

“Why not, Jamie? No one would know. You really don’t have to be concerned with my reputation. I don’t really have much of one, as it is. Everyone thinks I’m a spy.”  
She was gabbling now she knew, though she wasn’t sure why to begin with. Then it dawned on her. He meant to reject her. He meant to reject her and it hurt.

She stopped speaking and looked at him. He was beautiful. The firelight played in his hair and cast shadows across his face.

“Don’t you want to?”

“Claire,” he breathed, “Claire, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. But I willna, I canna take you. I could never take a woman without offering her marriage. I have never laid with a woman and I dinna intend to lay with one, other than the one that will become my wife”

“Oh. Oh” She had no response to that. She just looked at him and he carried on speaking.

“My father always taught me that to lay with a woman that you loved was a gift above all things and I believe in that. When the time comes, I will lie with the woman I love, with my wife”

She continued to look at him. The intensity in his face, the earnestness. These were not hollow words but the heartfelt beliefs of a man of integrity and strength. She saw there a man of worth. A man of strength and honour. Something caught fire in her heart and her mind. She wanted this man. Not merely to take her to bed in lust, not merely an itch to be scratched. She wanted this man. She wanted to be the woman he spoke of. The one he took to his bed in love and matrimony. She felt a yearning, a closeness, an intimacy with this man, almost a stranger though he was, that she had never experienced before. Not even with Frank in the years before the war when she had thought them close, when she thought that she loved him. The revelation shocked her, She was in love with a man she barely knew, who might technically be her captor, two hundred years in the past. She shook her head slightly trying to clear her thoughts. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and room was suddenly uncomfortably warm despite her state of undress. She was in love with him. The thought made her heart pound.

His voice came softly and hesitantly.

“I would offer you marriage, Claire. I would have you be that woman. Since the moment you mended me by the side of the road that first night. I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anything. More than I thought it was possible to want anything. Anyone. And when you wept in my arms at Leoch. I fell in love with you, Claire.”

Claire stared at him as she tried to formulate a response that did not involve her throwing herself bodily on him. He never broke eye contact as he continued,

“...but I have nothing to offer you. No lands, no property, no position. I’m an outlaw. I have nothing I can give you, save my name, my clan and the protection of my body. But they would not be enough, not for a wife such as you, even if I thought you would have me, I would give you the world, but I have nothing”

His shoulders sagged at this last statement and he looked at the floor.

“Jamie” she whispered tumultuously, “Jamie, I would have you. If you offer me marriage, I will take it. If it means sleeping in the stables at Leoch with you, I will take you and you will be enough. You are enough.

He looked up at her then and gave her a look of such infinite tenderness and joy that she felt tears spring up in her eyes.

“Do you mean that, Claire?” His voice was little more than a whisper.  
“I do, Jamie, I really do”

She stretched her arm out to him then and he took a step towards her.

“Mo Neighann Donn”   
“What does that mean?”  
“My brown haired lass. I have been so longing to call you that” He reached out a hand and ran it through her hair. She felt goosebumps rise on her flesh at the sensation. “Marry me, Claire,” he murmured into her hair, “Marry me and be my love.”

She answered in actions rather than words. Rising onto tip toes she pressed her lips against his. Gathering her in his arms he lifted her off of her feet, deepening their kiss. After a long moment he lowered her back to the ground.

“Tomorrow, Mo Neighann Donn, I will speak wi’ Dougal and we will make arrangements. Until then, I bid ye goodnight.” He kissed her again and gathered up the blanket, and his waistcoat and stock. Turning he gave her a deep bow before he turned and stepped out into the darkness, shutting the door gently behind him. She lifted a hand to her chest and clutched her heart.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Murtagh bond

Claire woke to the sound of raised voices. That wasn’t unusual amongst the Highlanders, but what was unusual was the number of times she heard the words “Claire” “Mistress Beauchamp”, “Sassenach spy” and more than once “English bitch”. She threw off her cloak and groggily searched around for her clothes. The sat in a pile in the centre of the room. She flashed back to the previous night and her face flushed hot. She was engaged. To a large red headed highlander, who also happened to be a notorious outlaw. A notorious outlaw who also happened to be the single great love of her life. It all made so much sense to her now. She had tried to get away on occasion, and it had always been Jamie who had found her. She wondered if that she had subconsciously made that happen. If she had’t really wanted to leave, but done what she thought she must through duty, through loyalty. 

Frank. He was her husband, but was he really? He wouldn’t even be born for nigh on another two hundred years and in her six weeks in the past the memory of him had grown blurry in a way it had not even in six years of separation through war. The war had taken its toll though, but she had thought that perhaps with time they could have fixed that had she never gone to the stones. Had she never found Jamie. But she had. She felt some regret that Frank would never know what had happened to her, that there would always be questions, but she also knew Frank. He had loved her, but he would move on. It was just who he was. His fiercely pragmatic nature alone would ensure that. And for her, her heart and soul belonged elsewhere, she could never truly go back now.

She got dressed slowly, listening to the noise below escalate. Jamie. Dougal. Ned Gowan attempting to intercede between the two.

“Ya canna marry the Sassenach, Jamie. Colum will lose his head. Or you might lose yours. Whatever were ya thinking man?”

“She needs protecting. She has no people, no husband to take care o’ her. If you insist she must stay here with us, she at least deserves that. A lady of her station shouldna be by herself”

“Oh and you’re just the man to protect her, aye?” The derision was palpable. 

There was more shouting this time less distinct but no less vehement in tone. She was dressed now and wondering what to do with herself. She didn’t really fancy throwing herself into Dougal’s firing line, but at the same time felt that really should be offering moral support to Jamie given that this wasn’t exactly something he had gotten into by himself. There was an alarming crash and the sound of a door banging. Heading to the window, she saw Dougal stomp across the yard towards the stables at the same time she heard footfalls on the stairs. Hurriedly raking her fingers through her wild morning hair she attempted to make herself more presentable expecting Jamie. It was Murtagh, however, who knocked and entered the room.

They eyed each other speculatively. Claire raised her chin slightly feeling slightly unnerved. It was however, Murtagh who broke the silence. 

“I brought you some breakfast, lass. I figured you’d no want to be getting between Dougal and Jamie when they have their danders up. Even if you are the cause of it” He raised an eyebrow at her at this and walked over and placed a tray on the table in the corner. “Dougal’s stomped off, but I have nay doubt he’ll be back as soon as he’s thought of some new names to call the lad. I figured we’d just leave them at it for now at least”

She had expected Murtagh to leave immediately after setting the tray down but he surprised her by leaning against the fireplace.

“So, lass. Why do you want to marry Jamie?. I ken why he wants to marry you, the look on his face when he thinks no one is watching him watching you, is all I need to know about his feelings. But you? Why have you agreed to this? You ken he’s an outlaw?”

“I do” she replied.

“And ya ken he’s no land or money.”

“Yes”

“So why?” The scot looked at her intently, his bushy brows meeting. The silence stretched between them.

After a moment Murtagh spoke again. “I love that boy like he’s my own son and since his parents died he might as well be. I dinna think him taking you to wife is a good idea. I’m not going to lie about that, but I ken he loves you something fierce. He’s a good bit of both his Mam and Da in him and they loved passionately and not always wisely. He’s romantic and he believes in marrying for love. I dinna think any of us expected it to be to a mysterious Sassenach who near dropped out of the sky though.”

These were more words than she had heard Murtagh speak since he first found her at the stones those six weeks past.

“I love him too. I know that he has no land or money. I know that he’s an outlaw with a price on his head. I know all this and I still want him. Its him that I want. Not a position, not a name or title. Hell, I don’t even know his real name, but I’ll bet my shift it’s not MacTavish.”

The wiry scot’s mouth lifted a little at the corners with that. “No, its not. But its for Jamie to tell you who he is, not me.”

She nodded at that and he carried on. “It clear you’re a lady. High born and gently reared. Despite your foul mouth.” It was her turn to smile slightly. “Are you really prepared for what life with him could be like? If things go sour at Leoch. You’d have to take off. You could maybe head for France or the such, but it will no be easy for the two of you. Both of yis are in that mad bastard Randall’s sights. If he catches wind o’ yer…”

“I want him” her voice was almost a whisper and it shook slightly. There was another pause between them.

“Aye. Aye, I know you do, Mistress. You’ve the kind of face that just isna built for telling lies. But I needed to ask ya. I promised his Ma I’d always take care of him and I willna break that vow. Ya no the only one who loves him, ken?” 

She kent. She did not know the taciturn highlander well, but she knew him to be stalwart and true. Jamie trusted him without question and she knew that she could too. 

He rose to his feet.   
“Well then… Claire” He looked slightly uncomfortable at the use of this familiarity and followed it with a world class Scottish noise. “You finish your breakfast and come on down. We’ve some plans to make, aye?”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the wedding

He closed the door behind them shutting out the sounds of revelry coming from the floors below. Claire was perched on the end of the bed. She felt suddenly nervous. Not afraid to be alone with him, she knew she would never have cause to fear the man stood in front of her, but charged. Every cell in her body was zinging in anticipation and expectation. Her demure posture was as much to do with trying to prevent herself from visibly shaking from desire as any real coyness on her part. She raised her head and looked up at him from under her eyelashes. She had never seen a sight of such wonder as James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser in his wedding finery. And now here they were, in their wedding chamber. Jamie met her gaze steadily, though she could tell his breathing was uneven, even with the distance of the room between them. Was it really only four days since they stood in another inn, in another bedroom staring at each other, eyes filled with desire, shaking with the intensity of their want for each other?  
Jamie and Murtagh had been right. Dougal was not entirely happy with the the news his nephew planned to take the ‘Sassenach spy’ to wife, but there was very little he could actually do to prevent it. So in the end he had not tried, reluctantly admitting that it may actually be a sound plan, changing Claire as it did, from an English woman to a Scot and increasing the influence of Clan MacKenzie over her. Jamie had also privately admitted that his taking of an English wife would also effectively put an end to any discussions as to whether he might succeed as laird at the death of Colum, something which Jamie, Dougal and Colum would all breath easier knowing.  
Arrangements were made, a church and priest found who would marry them on the road (‘Best get it done and over with before we get back to Leoch’ had been Dougal’s pragmatic approach), a dress procured, a ring bought.  
And there she found herself for the second time in her life reciting vows of matrimony. She had been happy the first time, when she has married Frank. A nineteen year old girl, he the dashing History professor. She had loved him once, she allowed herself that admission, but even in those heady pre-war days when she had thought him all she could ever desire it paled when she placed those feelings next to those she had for Jamie. There was simply no comparison between a love that, although sincere, is ordinary and that which is extraordinary. And that is what she had found with Jamie. A love which was extraordinary. That touched her to the very core of her being, that allowed her to know herself in ways she had never known were possible. That allowed her to know Jamie in the very depths of her soul.  
‘Claire.’ His voice was hesitant. ‘Claire, is everything alright, lass? Evidently her reminiscences had shown on her face, but she smiled at him now and the shadows of the past cleared. She stood and raised her head, looking him clear in the eye. The invitation was unmistakable and after no more than a moment of hesitation he stepped towards her closing the distance between them in no more than a few strides. She reached up and ran her fingers along his strong jaw and her closed his eyes, shuddering slightly with the contact. She raised herself onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was soft and chaste but communicated a multitude of emotions, desire long held in check chief among them.  
She set back down on her heels and looked up at him. He held her gaze and she felt something ignite within her. “Claire.” he spoke her name again, his voice catching as he did so. For her own part she she felt mildly drunk, having him in such close proximity to her was intoxicating. He placed a large hand on the nape of her neck and kissed her tenderly. His other hand came round her back and she could feel the heat and weight of it on her. He pulled her closer to him, their kiss deepening and their bodies pressed flush together down their fronts. She broke the kiss panting pulling frantically at her gown and laces. She needed to be much closer to him than the huge hooped skirt and endless petticoats would allow. He stilled her with another kiss.  
“Maybe I could help you with your laces and the such?” She could tell Jamie meant the question to be nonchalant but the slight wobble in his voice coupled with the frantic bobbing of his adam’s apple as he swallowed betrayed his nerves. It occurred to her then, that with the exception of that one frantic night in the inn he had never undressed a woman before. That night carried away in their passion as they were they had given it little thought, moved only by the need to touch, to feel, to devour the other. But now. Now they were man and wife. Now they would each take the other to their bed and finish what they had begun that fateful night, before the confessions and declarations which had brought them to where they stood now.  
Claire vaguely wished that Jamie had not been so noble on that night. That the first time he took her had been in unthinking passion. She ached for him now, but there was also fear. Fear that he would find her lacking, fear that they would not be able to find their way back to that moment.  
‘Skirts first’ she announced abruptly, her attempts to master herself invariably manifesting as assertiveness. She swiveled on one foot so her back was to him. She had already shed the outer layer of the gown earlier and so his hands reached for the laces of her underskirts. His hands were deft and sure as he unlaced each layer in turn until she was once again dressed only in her stays, shift and stockings. Very gently he ran a single finger down her neck and along her shoulder. She felt the gooseflesh rise on her skin with the sensation. Reaching up again her gently removed the pins that had been holding her wild hair in check. It cascaded around her shoulders and she felt him bury his face in it.  
“Mo Nighean Donn” he breathed into the masses of her hair “My brown haired lass. Mo Graidgh, Mo Chridhe” She leaned back against him, savouring the tickle of his breath in her ear as he murmured those endearments into them. Gently he turned her back to face him and raised her chin so that gold eyes met blue. “My love, my heart” he whispered, his face so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his words against her lips. He kissed her again then. And she kissed him back. He pulled at the laces of her stays and tugged her free of them. He placed his hands on her upper arms and moved her away from him slightly so that he could see her. His eyes were cloudy with desire and he raised his hand as if to touch her. He wavered there, as if unsure. She reached out and took his hand bringing it to her breast. Both exhaled audibly.  
“My turn now” she breathed, reaching for his belt. She had barely gotten it undone when he pulled her to him and kissed her. There was no hesitation, no chasteness in this kiss. She tangled her hands in his hair as their tongues danced together and they panted into each others mouths. One handed, Jamie rid himself of the rest of his kilt and lifted her bodily from the floor and laid her on the bed. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she attempted to pull his shirt off over his head without breaking their kiss and they laughed briefly as they fought to free him from the tangle of fabric he found himself caught up in. Her shift was round her middle as she lay panting beneath him. His lips were on her breasts, his tongue teasing the nipple and making her call out. His hand slid up her thigh until it came between her legs. He let out a moan as his hand made contact with the warm wetness there. He stroked her gently making her back arch and her breath come faster and faster. She called out his name and went rigid. She pulled him to her then. Once again wrapping her legs around him.  
“Jamie” she called, urging him with thrusts of her hips. He came into her slowly. His eyes closed his mouth moving as if in silent prayer. When he was fully sheathed, he held himself still, raised up on his arms. Claire reached up to him and pulled him down to her. Her tongue flickered out against his lips and she ran her hands down the hard length of his body until she reached his tensed buttocks. She pulled him to her, gasping his name into his ear. He began to move, slowly and gently at first, but soon harder and faster. Their cries mingled together and he raised up on his knees, pulling her up with him until she straddled his lap. Both of them were slick with sweat as they moved together, closer and closer to the edge, before with a cry she tumbled over, bringing him with her.  
The collapsed forward each supporting the weight of the other, as they attempted to return to themselves. Claire cried hot, wet tears into the warmth of Jamie’s shoulder, the intensity of feeling both emotional and physical, overcoming her completely. Jamie stroked her as he breathed into her hair, not entirely in control of himself either. He had known it would be good, had know with her it would be wonderful, but he still found himself shaken to his very soul at the very strength of what he had felt.  
He shifted position, so they were both lying facing each other, their arms wrapped around one another and their legs entwined. They lay there in silence just breathing the other in, touching, stroking.  
“Was it like you expected?” she asked him after the longest time.  
He looked at her.  
“Better” he said with a wry grin.  
“Would you like to do it again?”  
He laughed then, a deep belly laugh which made her feel warm to her toes with the sound of it.  
“Oh aye, lass, I think I can be persuaded”  
He pulled her up on top of him then and kissed her whilst her curtain of hair fell around them. And then he loved her, and she loved him and there were no regrets.


End file.
